


Snakes Only Feed on the Wicked

by RockSaltandCherryPie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dark fic, John's perspective, M/M, Sibling Incest, Teenchesters, Voyeurism, Wincest - Freeform, motel sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 04:47:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2137500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockSaltandCherryPie/pseuds/RockSaltandCherryPie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: john catches them but he doesn't interfere (voyeurism)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snakes Only Feed on the Wicked

**Author's Note:**

> I've actually been wanting to do something like this for a while now, so I'm glad this prompt came along and I was able to flesh it out. I enjoyed writing something different (from John's perspective for the first time), and was totally surprised at how dark and deep it came out.  
> Enjoy :)

He blames himself. Of course he blames himself. As much as he tells himself he's doing the best he can, he knows boys need a mother to help them grow up straight. He knows living out of duffle bags and take-out food cartons, never setting up a stable environment, meeting people and leaving before anyone gets to really know you, is no life at all. Hell, it could barely even be called living. Ten different states in the span of a month ain't no road trip. It's a long, winding snake and it's coiling up, twisting into something ugly. And John's boys are along for the ride, their bellies never quite full, their wounds never fully healed.

So it's no surprise they'd lean on each other like they always have. It was only a matter of time before something like this happened, if John really thinks about it. That snake's rearing its ugly head and John can see it circling the bed his boys are on, it's there with them, and John's the one that put it there.

His babies, his boys, they're naked on the cheap motel sheets. It's John's right to look, he tells himself, he's fed the snake so many times that it's his right to watch it being fed by someone else. He just didn't imagine it'd feel like this. Outside the window, he's like a shadow. They don't notice him. His mouth's gone dry and tasteless.

Dean's behind Sam, they're both on their knees but they're joined at the hip, and not figuratively.   John barely recognizes what they've become, they're like the product of one of his darkest nightmares, but it's not ugly. It's something else.

Dean bites down on Sam's shoulder but Sam looks like he loves it, after all, the venom's shared by the two of them, always been _the two of them_ , and Dean's hands slither up Sam's thighs slick and smooth. John's never noticed, but they fit together like yin and yang, pushing and pulling and grinding and slipping. This was always bound to happen. He wants to think like he's failed, like this is the lowest of the low even among all of the killing and the blood and the crying and the fire, but it's not. And the snake hasn't devoured anything yet because, and now John realizes something with startling clarity, they aren't feeding it. The snake's watching, too, just like he is. John is so envious his blood curdles.  

He lights up a cigarette, his shadow flickering briefly through the window to flit across his boys' naked bodies, but they don't notice. John's invisible. He inhales the smoke, the madness, and lets it fill his lungs. He blows out and imagines it reaches his youngest, who's got his neck craned back for Dean to suck on and sink his teeth into. Strong arms wrap around Sam's chest, smoothing over lean, fresh muscle. Their thighs glide together, and John watches the way Sam's cock bobs between his legs with his arousal. Dean's hands work their way down again as his hips carefully push and roll into Sam, and John imagines how completely Dean's filling him. His slender fingers grip Sam's cock tight, pumping it slowly, most erotic damn thing John's ever seen. Nicotine floods his senses and rests heavy on his tongue. He's got blood on his hands, someone else he couldn't save in time, someone else he'll never tell his boys about. All he's got right now's this, watching Sam and Dean climb to ecstasy from behind glass, allowing himself this small, sick pleasure before the snake's no longer preoccupied.

The scent of _sex_ seems to reach him even from out here, curling in with the smoke and John's own arousal kicks in quickly but he ignores it. John's through with suffering, with watching his boys hurt, with giving them excuses. If he leaves them, they could be like this, beautiful, without the torment of his corruption, and they'd be _okay._

But he can't. Not yet. He's not ready. And to think, this whole time he thought _they_ were the ones he had to prepare. He needs them, needs _this._ His whole life he's wanted to be something Mary would be proud of. Right now, he's nothing. Nothing but a shadow to the world, to his own sons.

John notices Dean's hand speed up and Sam's whole body shudders in his arms. Dean's palm glistens wet as he takes Sam apart at his very core, twisting and pulling until Sam goes limp. John's vision goes blurry and he blinks the wetness away, sucking on the end of the cigarette simply to fill his lungs with something. The smoke usually makes him feel warm but not tonight. He feels a chill creeping up his spine and he wants to shut his eyes but can't somehow.

Dean's body drapes over Sam's, pushing his thigh higher on the bed and they move together as one until Dean slows and buries his face in Sam's hair.

A single tear slips out of the corner of John's eye and falls. The moonlight's lingering on their bodies and it's making them glow. John moves over a little, his shadow slipping off of them so even the moon can watch.  

Dean strokes the tops of Sam's arms soothingly and is whispering in his ear, something that makes Sam turn his neck a little, mouth parting to allow room for Dean's and they melt together, two bodies shining bright with the afterglow of sex and sweat.

And John thinks, remarkably, that he's done this. That they're sublime.

And that is something to be proud of.


End file.
